


Gloom

by Blubs



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blubs/pseuds/Blubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving an invitation from Varric to assist the Inquisition, Hawke decides to finally come out of hiding. Bringing Fenris along for the ride, the pair quickly learn a lot about the current state of Thedas and even more about one another.<br/>[on hiatus until i figure out how i can salvage this train wreck]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Puppy Eyes

"Then come with me," Hawke said, leaning on the door frame, arms crossed. For once, she looked serious. Usually when making ever so slightly crazy requests, Hawke would at least have an inkling of a smirk on her face, but this time she didn't. This put Fenris on edge.

He had spent the last few years with Hawke, something she did not anticipate. After the chantry explosion and Hawke backing-up Anders' actions, she fully expected the elf to disappear off into the night, never to return. She'd often asked Fenris why he bothered hanging around and going into hiding with her, but the only reason she got was that someone had to put a stop to the Tevinter slavers in the area once and for all. He never gave a reason for why he had to stay with her when he could easily have went into hiding elsewhere, but she had a good idea why.

"And leave the Free Marches?" Fenris questioned slowly, furrowing his brow at the idea. 

"Unless they've managed to relocate.." she paused, her mind momentarily drawing a blank,"What is it they call the place? Sky... home?"

"Skyhold," Fenris corrected.

"That's the one. Unless they managed to move Skyhold from Orlais to the Free Marches, then yes. Leave the Free Marches." Her expression changed from seriousness to something more pleading, verging on puppy-dog eyes. "This place won't fall apart without you and I wouldn't ask if I didn't think I would need you. Besides, Varric will be there. I've missed Wicked Grace."

Fenris remained sitting, eyeing Hawke as she walked over to his chair, resisting the urge to put her hand on his shoulder as extra persuasion. The pair had never really been intimate since the night he asked Hawke's forgiveness for walking out on her 3 years prior. Well, except for one evening of almost-intimacy after a particularly arduous battle against a notorious group of Tevinter slavers. The experience was over before it began; both of them riding their adrenaline high, their endorphins coming together to form some variety of unsavoury lust. Ultimately, it ended in both being unable to undo their armour strappings and deciding to give up, knowing the effect it would have on Fenris. The flashbacks he had after such events would knock his whole being for days on end. It wasn't worth it.

"One month," the ex-slave finally spoke, looking up at Hawke who was now looming over him. Before she could open her mouth to ask what he meant, he spoke again. "I will stay with you at Skyhold for a month, no longer."

"Oh, Fenris. I knew you could never resist the puppy eyes," she grinned, ruffling his hair quickly before moving away to her room before he could knock her hand away. "We leave tomorrow then," she informed him over her shoulder before closing the door behind her, leaving Fenris in the seat he had been glued to all night.


	2. Predictable

A week-or-so on foot and horse back brought Hawke and Fenris to the gates of Skyhold. The building was impressive, to say the least. Dark brick rose from the mountain, a contrast against the stark expanse of snow that covered the steep mountain range, offering sanctuary from the frostbite and unstable footing the surrounding wilderness had to offer. Not to mention the bears.

They were stopped at the gated entrance by a guard inquiring their names and intentions. Hawke put simply that they were here under invitation of Varric Tethras. A look of realisation washed over the guard, who had apparently been informed that they were expecting guests. Had Varric told everyone that they were expecting the Champion of Kirkwall? She sorely hoped not as that information could open an entire barrel of worms. The guard disappeared inside, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone while he fetched the dwarf.

"Impressive," Hawke stated, looking over the small wall that separated them from the sheer drop off of the bridge. "Makes me wonder why we didn't just take over an abandoned fortress instead of staying holed up those shacks back in the Marches. The hold was built by elves, you know." She kept her gaze downward, momentarily casting her mind to how long she would fall for before hitting the ground if she were to fall from the walkway.

"I don't know much of elven history," Fenris admitted, standing behind Hawke but facing the the opposite direction, eyes trained on the landscape.  
"You never read anything about the elves? I thought that since you learned to read, you'd want to learn a bit about your heritage," she looked over her shoulder, but not far enough for her gaze to reach him.

"My heritage was taken from me the day I received these markings," he looked down at his arms, voice filled with resent. Perhaps he has known more of his family origins before the markings, but all of that knowledge was gone now.

The silence and serenity of their surroundings made Hawke feel temporarily calm. After 4 years of hiding, killing, and covering her tracks, it was nice to be away from it all. Well, until she was permitted entry to Skyhold to help fight a whole new range of bad guys, but she took this time to herself and closed her eyes, inhaling the cold air deeply.

She was snapped out of her peace by the large gates being swung open, wood creaking under its own weight. Both of them straightened themselves, Hawke casting Fenris a look before focusing on the figure standing in the entryway.

"You took your time," Varric joked, familiar roughish smile plastered to his face as he looked from Hawke to Fenris. "I see you brought Broody along for the ride, too. I guess I should've put a bet on that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short opening chapters. Short and cheerful, right? Huh? Yeah.. Just you wait. Sorry that nothing really happens here. It's a slow build up.


	3. How To Not Make Friends

This was the second time today that they'd been left alone, standing still in almost-awkward silence. Varric had lead Hawke and Fenris up to the hold's battlements, away from anyone who may recognise them and start any kind of commotion. After all, there aren't many lyrium-tattoed, white haired elves roaming around Thedas; if anyone were to be noticed, it'd be Fenris. Varric had left them to go and inform Inquisitor Trevelyan of their visitors, disappearing off into the keep.

"So," Hawke spoke up, finally breaking the silence. "What's the real reason you agreed to come along with me? Surely hair ruffles aren't that effective on you."

Fenris looked at her with with a blank, unreadable expression. "I've no ulterior motive, if that's what you're implying." Hawke missed his occasional dead-pan humour and sarcasm he randomly displayed back in Kirkwall. Truthfully, she found it charming, but after the ordeal with Anders and Hawke allowing him to live, Fenris had changed. Hawke hoped that being around Varric again would draw it out of him.

"I wasn't implying anything. I was just suggesting that perhaps you've gone soft on me," she joked, sighing dreamily.

"I have not gone soft on anyone," Fenris scowled, voice growing more harsh and serious.

"You mean to say you've gone hard on me? But Fenris, we're in public!" Hawke swooned. Placing the back of her hand to her forehead in a false fluster, she side-eyed the elf, hoping for him to shoot back something humourous. Her hopes were in vein, untimately, as her eyes were met with steely bemusement. She stood up straight and met his gaze with equal seriousness. "But of course you wouldn't. There's nowhere you can run off to here after the deed is done."

"I asked for your forgiveness--" the elf started before getting cut off.

"Three YEARS later! It took you three years and even then, it was me who came to you." The topic had been a sore spot for Hawke since the evening it happened. Yes, Fenris has apologised, but it didn't make things right. She had pushed it to the back of her mind and buried it under more pressing matters, but now she had unearthed it and there was no stopping her. "Anyone might think we accidentally killed a puppy that night, the way you act about it."

"Do you really feel your 'needs' to be more important than what goes through my head? You really have no idea what it's like to know only pain then recieve a taste of what life was like before it's all taken away again," Fenris snapped, looking at Hawke incredulously. Could she really be that selfish?

The ex-slave turned and started walking away from the argument, heading toward a set of stairs that lead to the ground inside the hold.

"Fenris, I--" Hawke started, taking a step in his direction.

"No, Hawke."

****

The Inquisitor truly was everything Hawke had heard her to be. Evelyn Trevelyan was beautiful and stood with an air of determination and charming confidence, like a person bards will sing about for centuries to come.

"Inquisitor, meet Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall," Varric announced as she decended a small flight of stairs to stand with the dwarf and Inquisitor. If she didn't know any better, Hawke would've sworn that Varric sounded extremely proud.

"Though I don't use that title much any more," Hawke said, eyes fixed on the Inquisitor.

After the initial introduction, Varric stepped away, allowing the two women to become better acquainted. They spoke of Corypheus, of a Grey Warden named Alistair, and then of the whereabouts of Hawke's friends.

"I actually brought Fenris along with me, I hope you don't mind. He is an exceptional warrior and I feel that he would benefit.." Hawke tailed off as the Inquisitor turned to look down at the courtyard, where distant yelling could be heard.

"Is that him? The glowing one, that is," Inquisitor Trevelyan peered down, watching as the figure held a heated argument with one of the inquisition's own mages.

"Glowing? ...Oh no," Hawke breathed, hurrying to look over the wall. Fenris was, indeed, giving off a rather noticable blue light. The kind of light he emmited just before ripping a man's heart from his chest. Going as quickly as she could, Hawke made her way down the rather long flight of steps that lead to the courtyard below. "FENRIS, DON'T YOU DARE!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo so to be blunt, I'm looking for beta readers/co-writers. Really I just need someone who knows a bit about the characters personalities and is willing to let me rattle ideas off of them and offer their own ideas. I need someone to tell me that my ideas suck!  
> So throw me a message if you're interested and I'll love you a lot. More input = better content, in my opinion.


	4. Add Rage To Taste

Who would've known that the beloved Champion of Kirkwall could be so selfish? Even Fenris was slightly taken aback by how Hawke had handled the situation. Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment, but as Fenris made his way to the courtyard, any admiration he felt for her slowly malted into rage. He would never admit to having feelings for her; not after she spared the life of Anders after the chantry explosion. How could she abide someone who has decieved her into helping bring down possibly the most important force in Kirkwall? Now, the whole party had been painted as conspirators and forced into hiding by templar and mage forces alike.

"May I just say," someone started, snapping Fenris out of his own personal storm cloud. "Those tattoos are remarkable." The man looked the elf up and down, considering him. No.. not just considering. This man was full-blown checking him out. "Ah, where are my manners? I am Dorian Pavus," he held out a hand to be shook.

Fenris stopped in his tracks and turned to face the stranger, quickly profiling him. "They are not tattoos," he corrected, not quite comfortable under the man's gaze. It took a second, but something in him clicked. "Isn't that a Tevinter name?" Fenris questioned, narrowing his eyes at the man, never so much as acknowledging the out-stretched hand being offered to him.

"That is is," Dorian retracted his arm and cleared his throat. As if in parallel, something within Dorian also clicked. The knowledge of his surname and the unusual yet exact markings on his skin, coupled with the fact that he was an elf...

"Where are your slaves? I assume you brought them with you to also serve the Inquisition," Fenris became cold, ready to do whatever necessary if he did have slaves under his command. And why wouldn't he? The Pavus name held weight in Tevinter, Fenris knew that much. A family so high up was bound to have a multitude of 'unpaid servants'.   
"Now, now, friend. I own no slaves. I hold no stakes in Tevin--" the mage was cut off. Of course he was a mage. He didn't need to be holding a staff for anyone to figure it out as all prestigious families in that region ran thick with magic.

"I am not your friend," Fenris bristled. New rage bubbled on top of his already livid mood, causing his markings to glow a faint lyrium blue. He reached for his sword, more than ready to cut the other man down if he so much as mentioned his family owning slaves. To anyone else, this display may seem extreme, but to the elf, he saw destroying another Tevinter mage as a victory for the whole of Thedas.

Just as his hand reached the grip of his sword, Fenris heard a yell from above. He didn't bother looking up, knowing full well it was Hawke. After a second, he let his arm fall back to his side and his blue glow dissipated. Everyone else in the courtyard had gone from watching the argument, to watching Hawke run down the steps to try and prevent any unnecessary blood shed.

"I probably should have mentioned this. This is Dorian, the Inquisition's... necromancer. He's from Tevinter," the Inquisitor informed Hawke, eyes flicking between the 3 standing in front of her.

"Must you say it like that? It's not as if I actually raise the dead," Dorian paused, raising an eyebrow. "...Yet."

At that, Fenris made a sound, almost a growl, and took a step forward before Hawke stopped him. She understood the anger this caused her companion and all she could do to ease the situation is physically stop the elf from ripping the other man's heart out.

"Maybe I should show you both to your quarters," Varric put in before anything else could happen.

Hawke looked to her friend, still standing between Fenris and Dorian. "I think that'd be a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for help writing this. I aimed to have a chapter done every day but that obviously isn't happening, oops. But here, have a Tevinter fugitive getting pissed at a member of the prestigious House Pavus of the Tevinter Imperium!


	5. A Taste Of What Was

"I can't help but notice the lack of a second bed, Varric," Hawke spoke after a long few moments of silence. The quarters they had been assigned were dark and cold, but livable. The Inquisition hadn't been in Skyhold for long, so renovations were still underway, meaning that a lot of the non-vital areas of the keep were still derelict. Thankfully the room had a new bed, curtains, windows, and a large rug that sat in front of the recently cleaned fireplace.

"Well, nobody anticipated you bringing Broody with you," Varric chuckled, looking from Hawke to Fenris and back again. "You didn't seem to mind sharing a bed with him back in Kirkwall."

Hawke looked away, internally praying to the Maker that her face didn't just flush bright red. Judging by Varric's expression, the prayers didn't work. Fenris, who was still standing in the door way, huffed slightly and looked to the side. The night they spent together in Kirkwall was a long time ago and a lot had changed since then. For instance, there weren't giant fade rifts littered across Thedas at that time. Since defeating both First Enchanter Orsino and Knight-Commander Meridith, things just went from bad to worse. Nobody expected the fall of Orsino and Meridith to be a be-all and end-all, and it was wise to not assume so.

"We don't.." Hawke shot a look to Fenris, who was still looking away from her. "That was a long time ago, Varric." Almost 7 years ago, to be exact. Nine years of conflicted feelings and confusion. Hawke was almost completely certain that Fenris never had feelings for her in the first place, but that didn't explain why he still had the red ribbon tied around his right wrist. By this point, the ribbon was frayed and looked more brown than red and she was certain that he had replaced it more than once.

"Ah.. Well, we don't really have any rooms to spare right now," Varric spoke, pondering the options on hand. "Hope you don't mind sleeping on a bedroll," he smirked, turning to Fenris.

At that, Fenris finally turned his attention back to the conversation. "I have slept in worse places," he commented truthfully. His time in hiding with Hawke lead them to damp, abandoned shacks and caves, and the less said about his sleeping arangements as a slave, the better. The thought of a fire, a bedroll, and a dry room was almost paradise.

"I guess I should let you two settle in," said Varric, turning to the door. "A bunch of the guys are going to meet for some Wicked Grace later on. It'd mean a lot if you both joined us," he said with a genuine look on his face. Varric missed his Kirkwall friends more than he cared to admit and having Hawke and Fenris back made him feel like he was whole again. Like a part of himself went missing the day the group went their separate ways. They weren't brought together in the best circumstances, but Varric would take what he could get.

"You really think I'd pass up another opportunity to put you out of pocket? Varric, it's like you don't even know me," Hawke raised an eyebrow playfully.

"I'll see you later then," he chuckled before switching his gaze from Hawke to the elf who looked more pensive than usual. "You'd better be there too, Fenris. It wouldn't be the same if you weren't there to lose more money to Hawke."

Fenris nodded once, giving a half smile to the dwarf. Of course he would be there. Cards night at the Hanged Man were the highlight of Fenris' week and he wasn't about to miss out on it, even if the setting was slightly different and there was no Anders to chastise mercilessly.

With that, Varric left, walking back toward the main hall of the hold. This, once again, left Hawke and Fenris alone in a chilling silence. Each time the silence seemed to get more and more awkward. Maker, was it starting to annoy Hawke.

"I can't wait for that game of Wicked Grace later on," Hawke announced, pacing toward the rather grand double bed that looked terribly out of place in the partially refurbished room. The matress was amazingly soft, brought in from Val Royeaux, she thought. The only thing she was more excited about was the prospect of a warm, comfortable bed. She turned around and sat on the bed, looking at Fenris before talking again. "Too bad it won't be like before."

"Yes, I'm sure the lack of an abomination will be awful," Fenris said, his eyes finally meeting Hawke's.

"Was that sarcasm, dear Fenris? You know that's the lowest form of wit," she teased before laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. "I missed your sarcasm," she mumbled.

And so had Fenris. Looking away once more, he allowed himself to huff a silent laugh. "As have I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


	6. Surprise Is Life's Greatest Gift

"Hey, we were just about to start without you!" Varric cheered as Hawke entered the tavern, Fenris close behind.

Both of them had now changed out of their armour and into something much more comfortable, issued to them by a particularly nervous young elf who looked like she may run off if either of them made a sudden movement. Their outfits now consisted of simple grey trousers and tops, not completely dissimilar to what the Inquisitor was wearing, though made from a material far cheaper.

"Start without me? I'm wounded," Hawke joked, allowing herself to look over the others at the table. There was Varric, the Inquisitor, Dorian, a rather large Qunari, a man of middle age with an impressive amount of facial hair, a woman with cropped black hair, a young boy in a large hat, a noble-looking lady in fine clothing, and...

Hawke's gaze caught on a particular figure. "...Cullen?"

"Serah Hawke," the commander rose from his chair to greet his old acquaintance. After all these years, his admiration of Hawke had not faltered. An admiration, though platonic in nature, that would surely carry on for years to come. If not for her actions, Kirkwall's Templars would surely have still been lead by a red lyrium-addled commander, which would have proved catastrophic. "It has been a long time," he added after approaching her.

Probably against his better judgement, he lifted Hawke's right hand and planted a light kiss on it. Of course, this action earned almost the exact same look from Fenris and the Inquisitor; a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes. Noticing these looks, Cullen dropped Hawke's hand and cleared his throat. "I apologise. I shouldn't have done that. Evelyn and I.. The Inquisitor... We... And I didn't realise that yourself and our friend here were..." He fumbled for his words. Clearly he already had a few pints.

"I'm sure that Hawke isn't here to learn of who is sleeping with who. Sit down, Cullen," the Inquisitor spoke, rescuing Cullen from his own blundering. "Take a seat," she spoke again, this time to her guests.

Hawke had found her seat, positioned directly across from Fenris. She didn't complain. This was she could easily watch Fenris and figure out his tells once more. Once upon a time, she could read the body language of her whole group and win endless games, but that was a long time ago and she was bound to be rusty.

***

Time passed quickly with the aid of countless pints of ale. It was late and Hawke's judgement was becoming more and more clouded the more she drank. By this point, everyone was far too intoxicated to play another round of Wicked Grace and resorted to telling tales of interesting and funny times of their life.

Everyone sat engrossed in a story the bearded man was telling of his time in the Wardens. Blackwall, Hawke had found his name to be. While everyone was watching the man talk, Hawke's attention turned to Fenris. The elf was listening intently to the story, occasionally letting out a breath of laughter between swigs of his ale. She couldn't help but notice how relaxed he had seemed that night and she was thankful. She also couldn't help but notice how handsome he had looked.

Plucking up the courage, Hawke moved her right foot out in the direction of her companion, searching for his leg. After a moment of searching blindly under the table, she found it and ran her foot gently up his leg. Fenris only reacted by looking downward for a second before returning his attention to Blackwall's story. Hawke continued, moving her foot back down. As she reached his ankle, Fenris lifted his own foot and put it down on top of Hawke's, trapping it against the ground. She bit her lip and lifted her other foot to continue her sly movements. This time, he allowed it but kept her right foot pinned to the floor.

Eventually, he shot her a knowing look. He knew exactly what she was trying to do and he was just tipsy enough to go along with it. Happily so.

***

Eventually, everyone left one by one to turn in for the night. Hawke and Fenris were among the last to leave; her feet now resting on his knees without so much as a protest from the elf.

They reached their shared room to see that someone had lit a fire for them some time ago. The flames were now reduced to glowing cinders, still giving off considerable heat. Hawke dropped onto the bed and watched as Fenris unfurled the bedroll in front of the fire.

"You know," she spoke up, running one hand over the bed. "You don't need to sleep there." Hawke knew she was probably making a huge mistake suggesting this and braced herself for Fenris to shout or storm off.

He paused for a second, kneeling on his make-shift bed. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"Why?" She questioned. Normally she would have just left it at that and not pushed the subject, but the elf seemed to be in a very malleable mood for the first time in a long time.

"You may not get me out of it in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one night because I feel guilty for leaving this hanging for a few days. Sorry if this seems rushed! I'll read it over tomorrow and fix it if needs be.


	7. Release

Had Fenris really just implied willingness to spend the night with Hawke? For a second, she was sure her ears had deceived her, but the look the elf was giving her told a different story. Both had been drinking, but not in vast quantities. The stories told around the table captured everyone's attention, making them almost forget about the drinks in their hand.

Hawke just sat there on the bed, suddenly flustered, like a deer ready to run from a predator. Pacing over to her, Fenris never broke eye contact, unnerving her even further. Was this really what he wanted? Or was the Maker playing some twisted joke on her? Regardless, Hawke fully expected to snap awake at any moment and find the whole thing to be a dream.

Before she realised what was happening, she was laying back on the bed with Fenris pinning her by her shoulder, positioned above her.

"You know you don't have to-" Hawke started before being silenced by the lightest kiss to ever grace her lips. The moment hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity before time caught up again. She found her stare flicker between Fenris' eyes and his mouth before lifting her arms to run her hands through his impossibly white hair and pulling him back toward her, this time deepening the kiss.

The separated only to kick off their boots and move further up the bed before going right back to it. With each passing moment, the kiss for more and more chaotic, each desparate to get as much as the other would give. It has been so long but it felt just as right as it had all those years ago. For a second, Hawke considered how Fenris would react in the morning, but disregarded it once she realised one of his hands was now roaming dangerously close to the hem of her trousers.

Turning her head to the side, she allowed access for Fenris to trail kisses down her neck and collar bone, sucking and nipping sporadically as he went. She held back a groan and started tugging at his top, urging him to hurry up and take it off. At that, he broke the contact between them and straddled Hawke as he pulled off his bland grey shirt. He sat there for a few moments, considering her. He saw a beauty in her that he'd only seen once before; during that night back in Kirkwall. There was something about her flustered and breathless that only served to arouse the elf more.

Growing tired of waiting for Fenris to stop staring, Hawke reached forward to grab him by the hem of his breeches. The message she was giving was recieved loud and clear and Fenris immediately taking them off before assisting Hawke with hers. Their movements were remarkably coordinated considering how tipsy they were. There was no messing around. He spread her legs and, with one deft movement, inserted himself. Hawke's breath hitched, surprised by the no-nonsence approach Fenris was taking. Noticing her surprise, he went back to kissing her neck and stifling groans as he moved in and out.

Maker, it has been a long time, Hawke thought to herself, she herself holding back moans. She put a slender hand under his chin and brought his head up to meet her lips again. The kiss grew more fervent as his thrusts grew quicker and more purposful. Both had become lost in one another, completely enveloped in eachother's taste and smell and feel. Pleasure ripped through them, like a sword through a tapestry. If this moment were never to end, neither of them would mind.

But of course, all good things must come to an end. Hawke could've sworn she had heard Fenris growl her name a few times as he sped up, his thrusts becoming desparate. It wasn't long after that before they both climaxed together in a fiery surge of heated, long awaited pleasure. Hawke arched her back, nails digging into Fenris' shoulders, no longer bothering to muffle herself.

Once the deed had been done, Fenris withdrew and rolled over to lay next to Hawke. Both panting furiously, Fenris kept his forest green eyes trained on Hawke, watching as she raked her hands through her long strands of black hair to remove it from her face.

"I accompanied you here for a real reason, Marian," Fenris broke the wordless silence, speaking softly.

Hawke turned her head to look at the elf questioningly. Firstly, because she never expected to get a reason for him coming with her to Skyhold. Secondly, he had used her name. Her real name. This had only happened a handful of times and she couldn't particularly remember the context, it was such a long time ago.

"You impressed me continuously from the moment we met. You have risked your own life to ensure I remain free and by your side," words fell from Fenris' mouth, perhaps lubricated in part by the endorphins rushing around his bloodstream and in part by the bitter ale he had enjoyed at the tavern. "I would follow you from the Free Marches to the Fade and into the Void itself. Where you go, I go."

"If you fight, I fight," Hawke replied, breath catching in her throat.

"If you die, I die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	8. In Not-Quite-Hushed Whispers

Never for a second did Hawke expect to wake up and find Fenris still sharing her bed, so she wasn't too disappointed when she opened her eyes at mid-morning and found her bed empty. At first, she blamed herself. Had she done something wrong? Was it wrong of her to take advantage of his more pliable state the previous night? Or perhaps it was something unrelated. Fenris never was one to sleep in; during his time living as a slave, over-sleeping was forbidden, lest he severely punished.

Pushing the thoughts of Fenris' past to the back of her mind, she got out of bed and pulled on the bland grey outfit she had worn the night before. Thankfully she hadn't drank a lot and had avoided a hangover. Perhaps Fenris hadn't been so lucky and went out for fresh air? She kept trying to push him out of her mind. After all, last night's activities may have meant nothing at all to the elf. Hawke couldn't allow her feelings to cloud any aspect of herself. They were here to help fight alongside the Inquisition; this was no holiday.

As Hawke reached the large, open doors of the keep, she paused. Inside she could hear Varric at the table situated close to the doors. Hiding herself against the outer wall, she strained to listen to the conversation.

"I gotta say, Broody, this is about as surprising as Anders turning the chantry to dust." Varric was talking to Fenris, but she wasn't certain what it was they were discussing. After a pause and a look from Fenris, Varric spoke again. "Okay, bad metaphor."

"Last time I checked, I hadn't used magic to kill hundreds of innocents. You can't compare this to an act of terrorism," Fenris growled, avoiding the dwarf's gaze. He knew Varric was getting a kick out of this.

"Look, it's not the first time this has happened, and I really doubt it'll be the last," Varric chuckled. "I would suggest talking to her about it, but you're not really the caring sharing type. There's always the option of going another 6 years full of sexual tension."

Shit, they were talking about last night.

"Seven," Fenris corrected with a sigh. The whole topic was uncomfortable to him. Varric had cornered him and questioned him on why he still wore the red ribbon around his wrist and why he was especially dishevelled this morning. There was no point in keeping secrets. At times it was like Varric was all-seeing. If there was gossip, you could bet on Varric knowing it.

"Six, seven, what's the difference?" Varric shrugged. "The fact you remember how many years must mean something. Do you think you'd.. do it again?"

Hawke held her breath as she waited for Fenris to reply. Her heart fluttered and she found herself hoping he'd say yes. Though she'd never admit it, she was waiting for a night like that since the first time it happened. Love wasn't a word either of them would use, because it wasn't that. Was it?

No. It definitely wasn't.

Fenris was silent for a few moments before lifting his chin and putting on an unreadable expression. "No."

Hawke continued holding her breath subconsciously before realising she was doing it and allowed herself to breathe again. She couldn't put her finger on what she was feeling. They weren't in love, so it wasn't heartbreak. Her chest felt heavy and her eyes started to mist. _No,_ she thought to herself sternly, _you are not crying over this. Not over a man who has a track record of using you and throwing you aside._ She felt more than stupid for thinking Fenris was capable of feeling anything past rage or indifference. 

Straightening herself up, she turned on her heels and began walking down the steps to the keep, back toward her quarters. Walking with her head down, she failed to notice herself passing Cullen.

"Serah Hawke," he said politely, noticing her less-than-bright demeanour.

It took her a moment to realise someone was talking to her and stopped a few steps below him. "Commander Cullen," she replied, nodding her head in recognition. She pasted on a fake smile out of manners.

"Forgive me but you seem," he paused, thinking of a nice way to put it, "distressed."

Raking a hand through her hair, he looked up to him and then past him to the keep. "It's nothing. I should really go and prepare for Crestwood." Her smile faltered for a second just before she turned away.

Cullen followed her eyes, looking behind him and up to the main building, confused. "We'll talk later then," he nodded, resting both hands on the pommel of his sword before continuing his way up the steps.

When he reached the building, he found himself interrupting the conversation between Varric and Fenris. Cullen knew vaguely of the history between the ex-slave and the Champion of Kirkwall but only through gossip. He had watched Hawke stand outside the doors, obviously listening in to the conversation going on just inside.

Cullen looked between Varric and Fenris. "What did you do to Hawke?"


	9. The One Where Hawke Gets Distracted

"What do you mean Cullen knows? Knows what?" Hawke eyed Varric, hoping he wasn't saying what she thought he was saying.

The pair had been sitting at a table in the tavern after Varric offered to buy her a drink after her return from Crestwood, introducing the Inquisitor to her friend Warden Alistair. She had been gone over night and was made to sleep in a damp cave as the rain battered down outside and a cold wind whipped in over the lake. If she never went back to that cave, it would be too soon.

"He knows about you rekindling your old flame with Broody," Varric said without so much as a smile. Fenris telling him that it wouldn't happen again played on his mind. The dwarf had been rooting for the pair since they first met. He believed that Hawke might be the one thing the elf needed to heal.

"I heard your conversation, Varric. When you were questioning Fenris yesterday morning." Hawke's voice was low. She never did appreciate people talking behind her back.

At that, he looked down at his ale. The lack of jovial mocking didn't sit well with him. "Look, the kid was looking even more gloomy than usual so I asked him what was wrong."  
"And he just told you?" Hawke raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Varric would have had an easier time getting blood from a stone.

Before Varric could open his mouth to explain himself, the door was flung open and in stormed the fully armoured rain cloud more commonly known as Fenris. The whole tavern went silent for a moment at the loud bang of the door. Even the bard fumbled in her song.

"This is your doing, Dwarf," he growled, prowling toward the table that Hawke and Varric were sat at.

"Hey, whoa. What did I do this time?" Varric raised his hands in a fake surrender.

"The entire hold knows," Fenris struggled to keep his voice below a shout, lest he risk informing the few remaining people who didn't know.

Great, they were talking about _that night_ again. Hawke tuned out of the argument as she'd prefer to avoid conflict, rather than feed the flames. She found herself staring at Fenris as he continued chastising Varric and his inability to keep quiet. There was something enchanting about how his markings seemingly pulsated with a light lyrium blue every time the elf's temper raged above a certain point. She watched as his markings around his neck intensified then died away again as he tried to regain composure. Following his markings up his neck, under his jaw, to his chin, and ultimately his his lips, she let her herself watch his mouth and how his lips bent around the harsh Tevene curses and allowed her mind to drift to how those very lips felt on her skin.

Hawke's attention snapped back quickly once she realised that Fenris had stopped arguing with Varric and was now staring directly at her. He had stopped glowing but his hands were still balled tightly into fists as he held back the urge to strangle the dwarf.

"Well?" he demanded. Obviously he has asked Hawke something, but she had't been paying an ounce off attention to what he was saying.

"Can you repeat the question? I was distracted," Hawke's voice tapered off as she noticed Fenris tightening his fists in a fresh wave of anger.

In one swift movement, Fenris grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet and out the door. Hawke tried to dig in her heels and halt the elf, but only managed to recieve a tighter grasp from Fenris. He payed her no attention until they were standing next to the huge wall are separated the courtyard from the sheer slope of the mountains. Once they had reached the shadows, he released her arm.

"Maker, Fenris. Where's the fire?" Hawke scolded, bringing a hand to the area Fenris had held here. The claws of his gauntlet had left small punctures in the material of her top but luckily didn't break skin.

"I made a mistake accompanying you here," he said simply. "I wish you luck in defeating Corypheus for the second time." His tone made it obvious he was having a jab at her initial failure to kill Corypheus.

"A mistake? The mistake was made when you agreed to... join me two nights ago," Hawke kept her voice level, determined to not make a scene.

"Do you not think I know that? The whole Inquisition knows that," he threw an arm behind him, signalling vaguely toward the main building.

Furrowing her brows, Hawke spoke again. "Are you really so ashamed that you feel you need to leave? I heard you talking to Varric. If it won't happen again, then what are you so worried about?"

Fenris' scowl faltered, realising he'd been found out. He had only said it wouldn't happen again partly to get Varric off his back, and partly because he was terrified of Hawke commiting to him. She deserved someone willing and able to give himself to her completely. Someone who could give her a family and could devote every inch of themself to her. 

He couldn't do that.

"I am _not_ ashamed!" He snapped, his markings glowing dull as he brought a hand to her shoulder and pushed her harshly to the wall, pinning her there.

This was not the first time this week Hawke had found herself held in place by Fenris, although it was very different last time.

The quick movement and thump of her back against the stone flustered her momentarily until her blue eyes met his green ones.

"Really? Because if you weren't shamed, we wouldn't be in the shadows, " Hawke purred, testing him to see if she could get a repeat performance.

A small voice at the back of Fenris' mind whispered to him to kiss her where she stood, but the voice was drowned out by another telling him to release her and go. Finally, the smaller voice ceased and Fenris dropped his arm back to his side, releasing Hawke. Without a word, he turned and headed back in the direction of their quarters.

Hawke watched as he left. Every fibre of her being had craved Fenris in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been lagging behind on updates, I'm sorry! I've had work and all that boring stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> This work doesn't yet have a plot that's set in stone, so any ideas I could include would be awesome. Also, I don't have a beta reader so please yell at me for any spelling or grammar mistakes! Warnings and ratings are subject to huge change, but for now, you're safe.


End file.
